"I don't have time for my art!"

Challenging the Stories I Tell Myself

Hello Protagonists,

Welcome back to Letters from the Creative Life. These occasional essays explore the quieter corners of living: small reflections on art, ambition, and the tender balancing act of building a meaningful life in a noisy world. Think of them as letters from our lives to yours. Enjoy!

xo, Joanna

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“I don’t have time for my art!”

Challenging the Stories I Tell Myself

I have a confession.

Ever since I started co-running Creative, Inspired, ALIVE, I’ve had so much less time for my novel.

Running a consistent, quality Substack and podcast is a serious undertaking. I’ve had to learn video recording, editing, posting, design, marketing, narrative non-fiction writing, and community hosting all at once. It’s been exhilarating, and I love it, but my novel has languished at the bottom of my list, getting the scraps of my time and attention. I started telling myself the frantic story - “I don’t have time for my art!”

As a writer and a coach, I get particularly curious about the stories I tell myself. Especially when the stories cause me suffering. This one was prime for revision.

One of my favorite tools for revising my inner stories is Byron Katie’s “The Work.” Once I am aware of an upsetting story, The Work offers these questions to challenge my thinking and find my deepest wisdom:

1. Is the story true?

2. Can you absolutely know it’s true?

3. How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought?

4. Who would you be without that thought?

And then the most powerful one - Could the opposite story be as true or truer?

Okay, so here I go:

The Story - “I don’t have time for my art!” (Please read with great lament.)

1. Is it true?

   Well, yes, I am running a Substack, coordinating a podcast, coaching my clients, and serving as the primary parent to my two kids. My life is too full of more urgent matters than my novel. And by the end of the day, I’m spent. 😫

2. Can I absolutely know it’s true?

   Deep breath. Let me back up a little. No, I can’t know that the statement, “I don’t have time for my art,” is 100% true because I still have time in my day. I may be tired, but there is technically time. And I can see that it’s more a matter of how I prioritize my time. Hmm. 🤔

3. How do I react when I believe the thought, “I don’t have time for my art!”?

   Wow, I feel sad. I feel like the world lost its glimmer. I feel harried and tight like the March Hare in Alice in Wonderland. I also feel resentment, heat starting in my belly and running right up to my throat. I want to lash out at the things taking up all the space in my life. 😤

4. Who would I be without the thought?

   In imagining that this story has disappeared from my mind, a tremendous sense of lightness returns. I feel curious, relaxed, and a sense of slowness. I want to giggle as a bit of whimsy bubbles up in me. But I can also feel the fear and sadness at the edges, asking, “But I can’t just disappear this story?”

Could the opposite thought, “I do have time for my art!,” be as true or truer?

I can see how this turnaround is true. I have time, if I want to reevaluate my activities. I can see that I respond to what is urgent over what is important, and sometimes important things need space in my day, even if there is no deadline or external demand. My art is important for my well-being. This has me wondering, “What things can I not do, delegate, or do later to make time for my art?”

I’ve been wanting to hire someone to help with the administrative tasks of Creative, Inspired, ALIVE. It would be worth investing some subscriber contributions to support myself. I can also say “no” to volunteer requests or social events on my calendar to make room for what deeply matters to me - my art. Saying “no” feels uncomfortable, but I am willing to trade that discomfort for being in integrity with my creative calling. I can also stop leaking my energy. I know this happens at night. I’m too tired to write, so I scroll social media to try to wind down, but it makes things worse. I can try prioritizing sleep to wake up rested and maybe write before the day starts swirling.

Another element of truth in the story, “I do have time for my art!,” is that this substack and podcast is my art. I can see that defining “my art” too narrowly limits my creative identity and causes some unnecessary suffering. I love almost every post and piece of this job (especially this one right here.) Even my parenting is an act of creativity! Expanding my view of art relaxes that tight feeling in my chest and brings my awareness to all the glimmer available to me without changing a thing. 😮‍💨

Now, let me play with the word time. Could twenty minutes be enough for my novel right now? Maybe I was too limited in what I considered time for my art. While my ideal would be a wide-open afternoon without anything else encroaching, what other pockets of time could I unlock if I didn’t hold my ideal so tightly? I can work to create a wide-open afternoon, but I can also use the twenty-minute wait at the doctor’s office.

Another way to play with the idea of time is to back up and see my life more broadly. Yes, this season is full of learning the ropes at Creative, Inspired, ALIVE, but not all seasons are the same. My children will need me less soon. My calendar opens up in the summer. “No time” right now does not mean “no time” forever. I’ve had so many seasons when I’ve had to put my novel down, yet I always pick it up. She is an old friend, waiting for me to call again and fall right back into our rhythms together. Phew, changing my unit of time helped my belly relax and my chest expand. 😌

So after all this, I interviewed some fantastic women to help with administrative support and defended some space for my novel this week. I was so delighted that I shared a photo of my writing desk to celebrate with my writing friends. One friend responded - “Oh, sigh, seeing a manuscript on a laptop makes me wistful. I am non-stop grandma-ing!” I felt deep camaraderie reading this message. These feelings are so common among us. Understanding our seasons, challenging our stories, and reclaiming our outlook on art feel essential to our calling.

May we all see the time for our art!

Share your experiences in the comments.

⏰ How do you make time for your art?

🎨 What could be considered art in your life if you broadened the definition?

💫 What are you creating this week?